


The Present Day

by rmxzuko



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar)-centric, Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Colonialism, F/M, Gen, Harmony Restoration Movement, Minor Sokka/Suki, Nostalgia, Pai Sho, References to Canon, Sunsets, Toph is secretly a sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmxzuko/pseuds/rmxzuko
Summary: Aang loved all of his friends dearly, but sometimes, the nagging thought that he didn't belong in this world became too loud to ignore. As his birthday—which he had once shared with several other Air Nomads—rolls around, he struggles to distract himself from all he's lost to time and war. However, the birthday party Katara throws him helps him remember all he's gained.
Relationships: Aang & Iroh (Avatar), Aang & Katara (Avatar), Aang & Sokka (Avatar), Aang & The Gaang (Avatar), Aang & Toph Beifong, Aang & Toph Beifong & Katara & Sokka & Suki & Zuko, Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	The Present Day

**Author's Note:**

> I was sitting in my room at sunrise, thinking about sunsets, and decided to write this. I don't know why, but I do know that there are 4,000+ words after the sunset scene in this... because, apparently, I didn't learn how to shut the heck up in the [almost] three years it's been since I last wrote a fanfic. Oh well. Enjoy my ramble!

It’s been three months since Zuko declared the end of the Hundred Year War, but there wasn’t a single member of Team Avatar who was under the delusion that their work was done. The Harmony Restoration Movement was still in its nascent stage, and already, it was proving to be an almost insurmountable challenge. After a couple of weeks of negotiation between Earth King Kuei and himself, Zuko had commenced the process of repatriating Fire Nation colonials in the Earth Kingdom. The more recent colonials had been glad to return to their homeland, but the older ones, as if to prove that the Earth Kingdom had become _their_ home, too, had dug their heels into the ground. In addition, to make matters worse, Ozai loyalists were using Zuko’s decision to participate in the movement as “evidence” that he did not have the Fire Nation’s best interests at heart, causing a surge in the number of Fire Nation citizens contesting his authority.

When Aang got wind of a coup, he volunteered to go to the Fire Nation and assist Zuko in convincing Fire Nation citizens that repatriation was best for the world _and_ the Fire Nation. The rest of the gang, meanwhile, remained in the Earth Kingdom colonies, assisting with the logistics, rather than the politics, of repatriation.

Aang hadn’t minded splitting off from the group, from _Katara_ , to help Zuko. He understood that, as the Avatar, he had duties to attend to, and that said duties would often lead him away from his friends and the love of his life. However, their absence— _her_ absence—hit him in the evenings, after dinner, when he and Zuko parted ways for the night.

As Aang entered the guest bedroom he’d been assigned, he sighed. The bedroom seemed, ironically, ice cold, devoid of the homey feeling that comes from being lived in and the warmth that accompanies Katara wherever she goes, and without a stressed-out Zuko around, Aang could finally acknowledge how stressed _he_ was. He believed in himself, that he would do the right thing, but that didn’t mean that his job didn’t wear on him. He was, after all, just a thirteen-year-old kid.

Well, an _almost_ thirteen-year-old kid. His thirteenth birthday was tomorrow.

Well, _technically_ , his _one hundred and thirteenth birthday_ was tomorrow.

Okay, he was just a 113-year-old kid.

He was just a 113-year-old kid who had woken up to a world completely different from the one he had been trying to escape when he ran away from the Southern Air Temple. He had woken up to a war-torn world full of modern conveniences he could never have dreamt of, but at his people’s expense.

Aang sighed again. He’d trade this giant bed with its silk sheets and soft mattress in this too-big bedroom in the Fire Nation palace for the hard cot built into the wall of his tiny bedroom at the Southern Air Temple in a heartbeat. He’d trade all of the mechanist’s inventions, however helpful they might be, for the Air Nomads.

He had friends, even a _girlfriend_ , whom he loved dearly—but sometimes, just sometimes, the nagging thought that he didn’t belong in this world, that he was just a boy from the past doing whatever he could to exist inconspicuously in the present, became too loud to ignore. When that happened, he did what he always did when he didn’t want to confront something. He drowned it out.

He set his glider down on the too-big bed and walked out onto the balcony, from where he could see Appa, who he’d left in the courtyard. The sight of his bison brought a smile to his face, and he tilted his head toward the quickly darkening sky.

This—watching the sun set—had quickly become Aang and Katara’s thing. Sokka, goal-oriented as he was, found dusk as damning as a deadline; Toph, naturally, found sunsets as meaningless as the concept of color itself; and Zuko wasn’t fond of feeling his power diminishing with every additional inch of the sun that slipped below the horizon. The others’ indifference meant Aang and Katara could watch sunsets without distractions or disturbances.

It was simple for Katara. She considered sunsets beautiful, and she could feel her waterbending get stronger whenever the sun disappeared. She liked looking at pretty things, and she liked feeling powerful.

It wasn’t that simple for Aang. He also became a better waterbender at night, but his love of sunsets went deeper than that. Whenever he looked at one, he remembered looking out at the sunset the evening of Sozin’s Comet, kissing Katara, and feeling more at peace than he had since before the Southern Air Temple’s Council of Elders told him that he was the Avatar.

While Aang had been looking at the sunset that first post-war evening, he thought about Guru Pathik’s words: “Love is a form of energy, and it swirls all around us.” He couldn’t help but believe, as he watched the sky turn various shades of orange and pink and yellow, that the Air Nomads were up there. He’d known, intellectually—thanks to Sokka’s far too scientific explanation—that the color change was due to the directional change of light rays, but it had _seemed_ like the Air Nomads were dancing in the sky with so much joviality that it couldn’t help but be painted the colors they had so often worn.

The thought had calmed him down. He had been wondering if he had made them proud, and if, by sparing Ozai’s life, he had brought just a piece of his lost civilization back.

_“The Air Nomads’ love for you has not left this world. It is still inside of your heart, and is reborn in the form of new love.”_

When Katara had joined him on the Jasmine Dragon’s balcony and kissed him, Aang got his answer. The Air Nomads knew, and they approved.

After that, Aang and Katara made a habit out of watching the sun set. And as Aang gazed up at the sky from where he stood on one of the Fire Nation palace’s myriad balconies, he hoped—no, _trusted_ —that Katara was doing the same from their house in the Earth Kingdom.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Aang.”

Aang looked down from where he was currently sitting atop Appa’s head, retying the reins to the bison’s horns. “Zuko!” he exclaimed. He gave Appa’s head a pat, then hopped down to the ground. “I was hoping I’d see you before I had to leave.”

The sight of Zuko’s bangs falling onto his face—reminiscent of his shaggy hair pre-Sozin’s Comet—seemed at odds with his Fire Lord attire, and the dichotomy forced Aang to suppress a laugh. It seemed he wasn’t the only kid playing dress-up.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Zuko replied. “I have a present for you.”

At the snap of the Fire Lord’s fingers, a servant appeared, bearing a contraption Aang immediately recognized as an old Air Nomad head shaver.

“Oh, Zuko, really, you didn’t—,” Aang started, his gaze fixed on the now-ancient relic, rather than on his friend.

“Nonsense.” The servant handed Zuko the head shaver, and he nodded by way of thanking and dismissing him before he turned back toward Aang to hand him the gift. “Happy birthday, Aang.”

Aang grabbed the tool by the handle stemming from the upper part of the shaver. He flicked the fan blades to make them spin, which caused the razor blades distributed around the circular headpiece to spin, and smiled. He’d never used this kind of head shaver more than a handful of times, but it had been a personal favorite of Gyatso’s, as well as many of the other elders, so it reminded him of days long gone.

It reminded him of home.

“Thank you, Zuko,” he said, hoping that the warmth he felt blossoming in his chest like a kind of internal hug made it into his voice.

“You’re welcome,” Zuko smiled. He glanced down at the head shaver, then returned his attention to Aang’s face. “I don’t know what it is—a baby mobile?—but I found it in one of the rooms I’d never been allowed into as a kid. It was full of my great-grandfather’s war trophies.

“Anyway,” Zuko continued, shaking his head as if to shake off the memory of his great-grandfather, “I saw the Air Nomad symbol on the blades and figured it was only right you have it.”

Aang blinked back tears, choosing instead to laugh at Zuko’s confusion as to the device’s purpose. “It’s a head shaver,” he explained. “This kind was popular amongst the elder monks.” He raised it above his head and mimed how it worked, then pulled it back to rest against his chest. “If you ever decide to shave your hair, you’re free to borrow it.”

“I cut my topknot once,” Zuko said, his lips curling into something halfway between a scowl and a smirk. “Never again. If I ever go bald, it’ll be naturally.”

Aang chuckled, but before he could respond, Appa groaned, pointedly interrupting their conversation.

“I guess Appa’s antsy,” Aang laughed, looking over his shoulder at his giant friend. “Are you sure you can’t come with us, Zuko?”

“I’m sure. You’ve seen how things are here.”

There was a somber characteristic to Zuko’s voice, and Aang nodded solemnly. He had, indeed, seen how chaotic things have gotten in the Fire Nation.

“I understand,” he said, and he meant it. If there was one person who understood Zuko’s burden of being accountable to and responsible for far more people than just his nearest and dearest, it was him.

“Have a safe trip back to the colonies,” Zuko continued, bowing. “And say hello to everyone else for me.”

Aang returned the bow, then drew Zuko in for a hug. “I will,” he promised, smiling to himself as Zuko returned the hug. “I’ll see you again soon, Sifu Hotman.”

The ever-serious Fire Lord opened his mouth to complain about the nickname, but before he could get a word out, Aang airbent himself up to Appa’s head. “Yip-yip!” he cried.

Aang waved goodbye to Zuko, and Appa leapt into the sky.

* * * * * * * * * *

Aang, content to let Appa fly himself for a while, had moved over to the bison’s saddle, and as he laid on his stomach, chin perched delicately on the saddle’s edge, he thought about how great the crisp air felt against his scalp, and about how much he loved autumn, when leaves turned orange and red and yellow. There had been a decently-long stretch of time where, as Appa flew over the Mo Ce Sea, Aang had seen nothing but blue, and now that they were flying over Earth Kingdom territory, Aang couldn’t help but watch the colors whiz by with an appreciative and arguably dopey smile.

He was doing his best to avoid thinking about how, in years past, there were always a bunch of birthdays to celebrate this time of year—the majority of airbenders were born in the fall, after all—and how, this year, there was only his.

It wasn’t _too_ hard to avoid thinking about, honestly, because birthdays had been celebrated differently at the temples. The monks and nuns had done their best to discourage vanity, after all, and dedicating an entire day to oneself was rather vain—so what usually happened, at least at the Southern Air Temple, was that, at the end of every week in the fall, the monks hosted one big party to celebrate all the airbenders who had had birthdays that week. It was a communal affair, with the monks and the monks-in-training all gathering ‘round to drink tea flavored with flour and get a slice of one of the egg custard tarts or fruit pies, and the closest thing to a gift any monk-in-training had ever gotten was permission to stay up past their usual bedtime. It was more a celebration of life than of birth, honestly.

And that’s what Aang held on to now. He might have been transplanted a hundred years into the future, but he was _alive_ , and the Air Nomads’ way of life wouldn’t die out so long as he lived. He wouldn’t let it.

He’d even attempt to keep their culinary traditions alive. He’d never been that great a cook—he had figured that he’d have time to learn how to do that when he got older—but he could take a trip up to Ba Sing Se, where Iroh was still holding down the fort that was the Jasmine Dragon, and talk him into adding Air Nomad-style tea to his menu. He didn’t think Iroh needed much convincing.

It’d have to wait until after his birthday, though. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Katara was planning something. She usually shared his reluctance to split, but when Aang had volunteered to go to the Fire Nation and help Zuko placate angry citizens, she had been all too happy. She’d loaded his bag onto Appa’s saddle before he’d even woken up!

He didn’t know what, exactly, his girlfriend was planning, but he was excited. It was his first birthday in a hundred years, after all!

* * * * * * * * * *

“Aang!”

“Katara!”

Aang jumped off Appa and, before he hit the ground, onto an air scooter that took him to Katara faster than he could have ever run to her. It dissipated just in front of her feet, and with practiced ease, he leapt to a standing position stable enough that the force of Katara jumping into his arms didn’t even slightly phase him.

“I’ve missed you, sweetie,” Aang murmured.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Katara said. She smiled into the crook of Aang’s neck, then pulled back just enough to cup his jaw in her hand before she stood on her toes and gave him a kiss. “Happy birthday.”

The peck was enough to make Aang’s steady stance falter.

He couldn’t help it. Katara just had that effect on him.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

He knew it wouldn’t be, but even if that one kiss was all he got for his birthday, it was enough.

“How’s Zuko holding up?” Katara asked, taking Aang’s hand in hers and starting to lead him toward the house Team Avatar—sans Zuko—shared.

“He’s alright, but he’s stressed. There are a lot of people who are afraid that dismantling the colonies will cause the Fire Nation to lose its social standing.”

“I didn’t know its ‘social standing’ could get worse,” Katara snorted. “It has far from a good reputation as is.”

She looked up at him and, seeing his furrowed brows and the slight pout of his lips, squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I just mean that so many people are already afraid of or hostile toward the Fire Nation, and so maintaining the colonies isn’t going to help the nation get back in anyone’s good graces. It won’t even help Fire Nation citizens. I mean, limiting the colonies’ trading partners to the mainland Fire Nation isn’t going to help consolidate the Fire Nation’s wealth. It’ll just spark resentment between colonials and mainland citizens. And what’ll happen when the colonials get fed up with the trade agreement and start demanding independence? ‘Cause that’s what’s going to happen if the colonies aren’t disbanded.” She looked up at Aang again, this time with fierce determination in her eyes. “If you can’t appeal to nationalists’ humanity, appeal to their greed.”

Aang gazed at Katara, impressed but not surprised. He often thought that she’d make a better Avatar than him.

He didn’t have time to praise her politics, though, because as they got to their front door, she reached up and, instructing him not to peak, put a hand over his eyes.

The door opened, and as Katara took her hand off Aang’s face, the lights came on and Sokka, Suki, Toph, Ty Lee, and Iroh popped out from behind furniture. “Surprise!” they yelled.

He’d expected Sokka and Toph to be here; they lived here, after all. He also wasn’t surprised to see Suki and Ty Lee; although they lived in another house with the other Kyoshi Warriors, they were here more often than not. However, Iroh’s presence was a surprise.

“Are you surprised?” Katara asked, all but bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I couldn’t get everyone here. I mean, Zuko is—but I figured since you’d seen Zuko and Mai already—.”

Aang cut her off with a kiss to her forehead. “I am surprised. This is great, sweetie.”

He was being honest. The décor and era might have changed, but with its genuineness and simplicity, the small party had the spirit of Air Nomad parties, and Aang immediately felt at home.

He began making his way around the room, and while he went around giving everyone a hug, Katara gathered the gifts and organized them in a pile in the center of the room.

When Aang saw the pile, he couldn’t help but cry out in joy and run over to it.

He might have been the Avatar, but he was still just a kid. And if his eyes glowed briefly because of his excitement, well, no one commented on it.

While Iroh claimed the couch on the side of the room as his own, the younger guests sat down in a semi-circle on the opposite side of the pile of presents as Aang.

“Is there one I should open first?” Aang asked, eyeing the gifts, all wrapped in orange or yellow paper. He felt excitement bubbling up inside him, like magma working its way up a volcano that was about to erupt.

The guests shook their heads no, so Aang grabbed the gift closest to him: two cylindrical rolls, tied together with a blue bow.

“Those are from Suki and me,” Sokka announced. “She wrapped them. She’s so good.” He pulled his girlfriend closer to him, causing her cheek to get squished against his shoulder. She chuckled into his shoulder, then swatted his chest to get him to release her from his grip. He did.

Aang smiled at the couple, then unwrapped the gift. It just looked like a pair of rugs, so to get a better idea of what the gift was, he stood up and unraveled each roll. The first roll to unroll was canary yellow, and had the Water Tribe symbol etched in blue in the upper right corner. The other roll was ocean blue, and had the Air Nomad symbol etched in yellow in the upper left corner.

“Yoga mats!” Katara exclaimed, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.

Aang recalled Katara dragging him off to the edge of the Black Cliffs to do yoga right before the invasion. It hadn’t helped calm his nerves, but Katara’s excitement now was enough to make him eager for another session.

“I had them customized,” Sokka explained. “The Mo Ce Sea isn’t far from here, so I figured—.”

Suki cleared her throat pointedly.

“ _We_ figured,” Sokka corrected himself, blushing slightly, “that you two could go down to the pier and get all that calming, spiritual mumbo-jumbo, and more importantly, all that ‘sweetie’ nonsense, out of your systems in somewhere other than _right in front of my face_.”

“Oh, shut up, Sokka,” Katara commanded, rolling her eyes at her brother’s griping.

_Should I mediate, or exacerbate?_ Aang wondered.

He decided to go with the more fun option.

“Hey, Katara,” he called. She refocused her attention on him immediately. “What do you say we do yoga _right here in front of Sokka’s face_?”

Katara grinned. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, _sweetie_.”

Aang handed Katara the blue mat, then sat down cross-legged on his own. He opened his mouth to tease Sokka some more, but the soft squishiness of the mat distracted him.

“This is so comfortable!” Aang mused, digging his fingers deeper into the mat. He was used to meditating on hard, solid ground, so this was a welcome change of pace. “What’s it made from?”

“Vinyl,” Suki answered. “There’s a vendor here who sells mats, but half are made from animal products, which I know makes you cringe, and the other half are made from bamboo, which isn’t all that comfortable, so Sokka and I took a trip to Kyoshi Island to get these. I asked one of my friends there to engrave them.”

“Well, these are perfect!” Aang swore, already imagining pulling a still-half-asleep Katara out of bed bright and early tomorrow morning to drag her down to the pier to do yoga and meditate with him. “Thank you, guys. I love the mats!”

He glanced down at his mat again and smiled, then passed it to Katara to hold while he sat down again and pulled another gift into his lap. It was a box, no bigger than the length of his forearm, wrapped in coral-colored, geometrically-designed paper.

“Lemme guess,” he grinned, looking up at his friends. “Ty Lee?”

“Yep!”

Aang tore through the wrapping paper. When he opened the box, he came face-to-face with a plushie in his likeness. He blinked at it for a second, then pulled it out of the box and wrapped his fingers around the doll’s waist.

“This is…”

He faltered, unsure how to finish the sentence. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

“I’m—.”

He laughed again, recalling his fan girls at Kyoshi Island, the Avatar Day celebration at Chin Village, and the rumor floating around that an Avatar Aang fan club existed somewhere in the colonies. He hadn’t stumbled across it yet—if it even existed, that was—but he wouldn’t be surprised if the group were behind the doll’s creation.

“It’s you, but miniature!” Ty Lee cried joyfully. “Don’t you look cute?”

“He always looks cute,” Katara replied, leaning forward to give him another peck on the lips. He delighted in the feeling of her smiling against his lips, and had to stifle a sigh when she retreated.

“It _does_ look a lot like you, Aang,” Sokka said, grabbing the doll out of Aang’s hands to get a better look at it. “It’s definitely a step up from the Ember Island Players’ depiction of you.”

Aang laughed. Although “The Boy in the Iceberg” had bothered him—and that’s putting it mildly—he could laugh at it now. Everything’s funnier with hindsight.

Ty Lee, smiling fondly, snatched the doll out of Sokka’s hand and gave it back to Aang. “The girl selling them told me a lot of kids have bought them. Isn’t that great? I mean, the thought that a bunch of kids are looking up to you because of what you’ve done… you inspire a lot of people, Aang.”

He met Ty Lee’s gaze, and if he hadn’t already been smiling from ear to ear, her infectious enthusiasm would have made him do so.

“Thank you, Ty Lee,” Aang said. He glanced down at the doll again. The thought that a doll with airbender tattoos was being sold to Earth Kingdom children made him smile. If he didn’t think about it too hard, he could pretend that the airbenders had come back and were, in their typical nomadic style, making rounds around the world again. “It means a lot that—.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, which was making it difficult to speak. “I’m glad I was able to end the war without killing Ozai, but if others are internalizing my message of nonviolence…”

He dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve, then, still smiling, handed the doll to Katara to put with the yoga mats. The way she clutched the doll to her chest, her thumb stroking the part of its bodice where its heart would be if dolls had hearts, didn’t escape him.

_Maybe I’ll leave the doll here with her, next time my Avatar duties lead me away from her…_

“Okay, mine next!” Iroh declared, interrupting Aang’s thoughts. “You’ll like it, Aang. It’s something that must be shared.”

_Well, consider me intrigued_ , Aang thought. He was up for sharing a gift with his friends. “Which one is yours?”

“The big orange one.”

Aang pulled the specified gift into his lap and ripped the wrapping paper off.

“A Pai Sho set!”

“The Avatar should know how to play Pai Sho,” Iroh nodded, his voice solemn, as if Pai Sho skills were a fifth element. “Legend has it that the game was invented by the spirits, and Pai Sho remains one of the few things that unites people of all nations—much like you yourself, Aang.”

“I know how to play Pai Sho,” Aang said. “Monk Gyatso taught me. He liked to cheat, though, and I was never very good.” He smiled at Iroh. “You’ll have to teach me how to play better before you go back to Ba Sing Se. It’s not like I improved any during the hundred years I spent frozen in ice.”

Iroh let out one of those full-bodied laughs that Aang loved so much. “It takes many years to master Pai Sho,” he said, as his laugh turned into a chuckle. “But I will do my best. I just hope that you are a more patient student than my nephew!”

“I don’t think that bar will be hard to beat,” Sokka mumbled.

The group—Iroh included—heard his comment and laughed.

When everyone’s laughter died down, Aang thanked Iroh for the gift, then passed it to Katara and turned to look at the two remaining presents. “Which one should I open next?” he asked.

“Sugar Queen’s,” Toph answered, jerking a thumb in Katara’s direction. “I got you the _best_ gift, so obviously, you should open mine last.”

She sounded so sure of herself that Aang couldn’t help but obey. “Which one is yours, sweetie?” he asked, turning toward Katara.

She gestured toward the larger of the two gifts still in the center of the room, and Aang unwrapped it quickly. There was a bunch of folded fabric inside the box, and when he held the clothes out in front of him to get a better look, tears welled in his eyes.

“Katara…”

She crawled over to him, held the robes against his body, and looked him over. “You’re growing out of your old robes, so…” she explained. “I worked on these day and night while you were gone. I hope they fit.”

Aang placed his hand over hers, which was currently against his shoulder, pinning the fabric to his chest. “They will,” he promised.

He glanced down at the robes again. “These look just like the robes Monk Gyatso used to wear,” he said, low enough that he doubted the other guests could have heard him.

“I know.”

She wasn’t talking about the similarities between the clothes.

She pulled Aang into a hug, and Aang felt himself calm down. Katara knew. She knew what it was like to be the last of your kind, and to feel obligated to cling to any part of your culture that you could, regardless of how much it hurt to be reminded of the past and the tragedy that had befallen your people.

She cupped his jaw and kissed him, and he deepened the kiss, laying one hand on her waist and positioning the other behind her head so as to keep her close to him.

As Ty Lee cooed, Sokka gagged. “Oogies!” he cried.

Suki rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. “They’re cute!” she said. “Leave them alone.”

“That is my _sister_ ,” he protested.

Katara withdrew from Aang’s embrace to glare at her brother. “How many times do I have to tell you to shut up, Sokka?” she snapped before turning back toward Aang, all half-lidded eyes and soft smiles.

He mouthed the words “thank you” to Katara as she fell back to her original spot on the floor. He then stuck his tongue out at Sokka—eliciting a giggle from Katara and a half-hearted “I’m watching you” gesture from Sokka—and plucked Toph’s gift off the floor.

It was a small box, no bigger than the size of his palm, wrapped sloppily in yellow paper. He peeled the paper off quickly and removed the lid of the box, revealing a silver bangle bracelet with a handful of charms—one for each member of Team Avatar—attached to it. Aang found a charm shaped like a glider—the one representing himself, no doubt—and held it against his fingers, admiring it.

“Toph,” he cooed, all but bouncing on his knees with the desire to jump up and give her a hug, “is this—is this a _friendship bracelet_?”

The earthbender crossed her arms over her chest. “Absolutely not,” she declared with a certainty that belied the blush coloring her cheeks. “It’s just some scrap metal that I thought you could carry with you when you go off to save the world or whatever. If you ever learn metalbending, you’ll be able to put it to good use.”

Aang leapt to his feet, unable to resist the urge anymore. “Toph!” he cried. “I _have_ to hug you!”

She dashed behind Sokka, gripping his shoulders with enough strength to make him flinch and, essentially, using him as a human shield. “I stayed here for the cake, not to get hugs. Katara, hug Aang for me.”

“Sorry, Toph,” Katara said, a devious smile creeping across her face as she got to her feet and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. “I’ve got to go get the cake, now that you’ve reminded me of it. Aang’s all yours.”

She smirked at Aang, then waved Iroh over to her. The two disappeared into the kitchen just as Aang grabbed Toph from where she was still perched behind Sokka like a spooked cat and lifted her up in a bear hug.

“Thank you,” Aang said as Toph bat at his chest to get him to put her down. He did, after a couple of seconds, and when he did, he turned to address the rest of the group. “Thank you, all of you. Really. Thank you. I love my presents.”

The resultant chorus was interrupted by Iroh and Katara’s return from the kitchen. They were carrying trays bearing fruit pies—or what Aang thought were fruit pies, anyway. There was a slightly-raised colorful lump where the spiral cone of gooey filling was supposed to be. Aang attributed it to the facts that the cone shape was made by adding a quick infusion of air into the filling to help it rise, and that Katara wasn’t an airbender.

The group began singing “Happy Birthday,” and as they were singing, Iroh and Katara set the trays down on the table. When they did, Aang noticed that the fruit pie with the yellow filling had thirteen candles poking out of the pie.

“Make a wish, Aang!” Katara said as the group finished the song.

Aang looked at the guests. He looked at Sokka, who had a perpetual grin on his face and who had become his brother somewhere along his journey of becoming a soldier. He looked at Suki, who had helped Team Avatar long before she joined it. He looked at Toph, who challenged him more than the war ever had, but who was soft enough on the inside that she carved him a friendship bracelet. He looked at Ty Lee, who had once been his enemy but who now, what with her bright eyes and endless energy, was the guest who most reminded him of his people. He looked at Iroh, who had taken a step back and was smiling at him like he was happy that Aang was having his day.

He also looked at Katara—the girl who had awakened him, who had believed in him before he had learned to believe in himself, who had brought him back to life figuratively and _literally_ , who had calmed the tornado within him, who had given him all the strength he needed to do what needed to be done. She was his best friend, his girlfriend, his… well, his _everything_ , and she was looking at him now with a smile that held within it all the love in the world.

As he surveyed the group, Aang realized that he had no idea what to wish for. He had it all already. He had ended the war, and was alive to tell the tale. He had [almost] all of his friends around him, and all of them were alive and well. And he had Katara.

In the end, he rolled the friendship bracelet Toph had metalbent him further up his arm (to keep the charms from dragging along the pie) and blew out the candles, wishing that the next Avatar would be lucky enough to find a team as great as his.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave kudos, and maybe even a comment/review? I love comments and reviews! TIA!


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